


The Third Time

by Laylah



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: First Time, M/M, Military, Power Imbalance, War Era, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-18
Updated: 2006-09-18
Packaged: 2017-10-21 11:16:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He leans in with an expression that’s somehow both affectionate and predatory, and Archer’s never kissed a man before and he wouldn’t have expected it to happen like this:</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Third Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kiwikiwi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwikiwi/gifts).



The first time Archer sees him, the Crimson Alchemist is almost naked. He’s sprawled across his cot in his shorts, sweat sheening his torso. “Aren’t you uncomfortable?” he asks, smirking.

Archer has refused to give in to the Ishvar heat; he still has his coat on, his shirt buttoned. “You get used to it,” he says stiffly. He holds out the papers he’s brought. “Message from Colonel Gran, sir.”

“That so,” Kimberly says. Archer tries not to watch the play of musculature as he sits up. His eyes burn, and for once Archer _is_ uncomfortable in the uniform. “Dismissed, Lieutenant.”

The second time, he anticipates the Crimson Alchemist’s state of undress. What he doesn’t anticipate is the casual question that follows his delivery.

“You have anywhere to be?”

“Sir?” Archer stares straight ahead, does _not_ look down at Kimberly’s bare, bronze limbs, at Kimberly’s elegant, deadly hands straying over his own skin.

“Day’s almost over. You’re going off-duty, aren’t you?” He speaks with a faint drawl, just enough to make him sound contemptuous of everything.

“Yes, sir,” Archer says. His voice wants to shake. He won’t let it.

Kimberly smiles. “Come down here.”

Heat rushes to Archer’s face. “Is that an order, sir?”

“Sure.” Kimberly shrugs, sliding over on the cot to make room. “Get down here, soldier. That’s an order.”

“Sir,” Archer says helplessly, “are you serious?”

Kimberly holds up his hands, showing them off. “Deadly,” he says, still smiling. When Archer still hesitates, he adds, “Go on, take your coat off. Get comfortable.”

Archer strips out of his coat mechanically, then realizes he has nowhere to hang it. He’s following orders, he tells himself as he folds it and places it on top of Kimberly’s footlocker. The Crimson Alchemist is a superior officer who has given him a direct order and followed it up with a very credible death threat.

“There you go,” Kimberly purrs as Archer sits down. “Good boy.” Up close, he smells like sweat and gunpowder, dangerous and masculine and –

And he pushes Archer down with one hand clenched in the front of Archer’s shirt, and he leans in with an expression that’s somehow both affectionate and predatory, and Archer’s never kissed a man before and he wouldn’t have expected it to happen like _this_ :

Pinned under the lean muscular weight of the Crimson Alchemist, moaning in shock and pleasure as Kimberly reaches down between them and tugs his trousers open, as Kimberly strokes his cock rough and fast, and brings him off hard.

“My turn,” Kimberly says, pushing Archer down, and Archer’s never done this before, either, but Kimberly’s hand on the back of his neck is inspiration enough, and he only chokes once, and the taste when Kimberly comes is less unpleasant than he feared.

Kimberly pets his hair afterward, soothingly. “Well done, soldier.”

“Thank you, sir,” Archer says automatically. His throat feels hoarse. “I could report this.”

“You won’t, though.”

Archer looks down. “No, sir.”

Kimberly smiles, and kisses him again.

* * *

The third time, Archer goes to the Crimson Alchemist’s tent knowing what’s likely to happen. He makes all of his other deliveries first, and while he’d like to tell himself that it’s so that he won’t get in trouble when — if — Kimberly makes demands of him, he knows it’s really so that he can honestly say he has no other obligations when — if — Kimberly asks.

He stops just outside. “Major Kimberly, sir?”

“Come on in,” Kimberly drawls.

Archer ducks inside. Kimberly must have just returned from patrol; he’s still half-dressed, and his fatigues are filthy. Grime smears his arms, a mixture of sweat and desert dust that he wipes away with the shirt he’s just stripped off. He smiles lazily when he sees Archer.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite lieutenant,” he says, dropping the shirt on the floor. The top button of his fatigues is undone. “More orders, or you just miss me?”

Archer swallows hard. “Both, sir.”

Kimberly laughs, gesturing at the envelope Archer’s carrying. “Leave that on the table. I’ll ignore it later.” He steps closer as Archer sets it down, reaches out with one tattooed hand.

“Sir,” Archer starts, and then doesn’t get to say any more, because Kimberly’s hand is on the back of his neck and Kimberly’s mouth is pressed to his. There’s an almost electric taste to Kimberly’s kisses, a sharpness that must be born of alchemy, and it makes Archer moan as Kimberly’s tongue explores his mouth. He curls his fingers in the waistband of Kimberly’s fatigues and holds on as the major starts to unbutton his shirt.

“Never done this before, have you?” Kimberly asks against his mouth.

“No, sir,” Archer whispers, kissing him back. He’d have expected it to feel more different, kissing a man instead of a woman, but Kimberly’s lips are soft, and that much is perfectly familiar. It’s everything else — the flat musculature of Kimberly’s chest and oh _god_ , the press of his hard cock — that makes Archer dizzy with the strangeness, the thrill.

“I get your first, then,” Kimberly says, unbuttoning Archer’s trousers and reaching inside.

“Yes, sir,” Archer breathes, even though it didn’t sound like a question, and then Kimberly’s fingers close around his cock and he moans. He knows how the other men on base react to Kimberly, like he could snap at any moment and kill whoever he got his hands on — and here Archer is, letting Kimberly touch him, _wanting_ Kimberly to touch him, trembling and hard at the feel of those deadly hands.

“How old are you?” Kimberly asks, pulling back to look him in the eyes.

Archer blinks in surprise; he wouldn’t have thought the Crimson Alchemist, of all people, would care. “Nineteen, sir.”

“And a lieutenant already? Good for you.” Kimberly tugs Archer’s trousers down over his hips. “So it shouldn’t be any problem for you to go twice.”

Before Archer’s even quite grasped what that means — Major Kimberly wants to get him off, more than once, god — Kimberly’s sinking to his knees with a confident little smirk. Archer stares, stunned: Kimberly licks his lips, and then his mouth is hot and wet around the head of Archer’s cock, and nobody’s ever, Archer’s only ever had girlfriends too proper to even _consider_ this, and it’s even better than having Kimberly’s hands on him, _god_.

“I can’t,” he tries to warn Kimberly, “I’m going to,” because it’s not going to take long at all.

Kimberly pulls up long enough to purr, “Go ahead,” his voice husky and low, then takes Archer in again, throat working around Archer’s cock and his teeth just barely graze the shaft and Archer shudders helplessly as he comes in the major’s mouth.

Kimberly sits back on his heels. “Strip.” He’s still smirking, his lips faintly swollen and spit-slick.

“Yes, sir,” Archer manages, his fingers clumsy as he struggles out of his clothes. Kimberly stands and unbuttons his own trousers, reaching in to stroke himself slowly, making a show of it as he watches Archer strip. He’s breathtaking like this, lean and powerful, muscles flexing in his forearm as he strokes his cock, opened trousers riding low enough to show off the contours of his hipbones.

“Sir, should I,” Archer starts, but that’s not really what he wants to be asking, and he trails off, sinking to his knees instead. “Please….”

“You want to suck me,” Kimberly says, and just hearing him say that is enough to make Archer’s cock twitch again.

“Yes, sir,” Archer whispers. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since the first time.

“Go on, then.” Kimberly steps closer, cradles the back of Archer’s head in one hand. “Do it.”

Archer parts his lips and leans forward, and lets Kimberly’s cock fill his mouth. It’s thick and hard, smooth against his tongue, stretching his mouth open, and then Kimberly starts to thrust. Last time he’d lain back and let Archer do the work himself, sucking clumsily, trying to maintain a rhythm. It’s more intense like this; _better_ , Archer realizes: the sense that Kimberly’s taking him, fucking his mouth, makes him start to get hard again.

He chokes on a deep thrust, and moans as Kimberly pulls back, reaching out to steady himself. His hands slide up, over the smooth leather of Kimberly’s boots, to curl in the heavy fabric of his fatigues and hang on. Kimberly fucks his throat with a lazy aggression that makes Archer shiver, makes heat roil at the base of his spine, makes him want _more_. He can taste the salt tang of precome and he doesn’t think it’ll be long now, Kimberly’s breathing sharp and ragged, Kimberly’s fingers tightening in his hair –

And Kimberly pulls him back, and Archer can’t help a little whimper as he’s dragged off Kimberly’s cock.

“Get up,” Kimberly says. “On the bed.”

Archer scrambles to comply, crawling up onto the cot. He has to try twice before his throat will work, before he can ask, “How do you want me, sir?”

“Hands and knees,” Kimberly says hoarsely, and Archer realizes what that means, what Kimberly must be about to do to him, right before Kimberly’s hand slides up the back of his thigh and Kimberly’s fingertips brush the crack of his ass.

“Oh god,” Archer whispers, bowing his head. He can’t believe this is happening, doesn’t know how he let it go this far, doesn’t know how he could have stopped it.

Kimberly laughs, but it sounds more affectionate than mocking. “Relax. It’ll feel better.”

Archer nods once, trying to follow orders, breathing deeply and willing himself to be calm as Kimberly’s hand withdraws. Everything will be fine. Major Kimberly has been kind to him so far, and seems to know what he’s doing, and wasn’t Archer just wishing for more? Still, his heart pounds and he curls his fingers tight in the blanket as he waits for Kimberly’s cock.

But instead he gets Kimberly’s hand again, fingers wet and slippery as they rub and stroke, teasing, not quite penetrating, until Archer’s gasping, shivering, pushing back. “Please,” he moans.

Kimberly drapes himself over Archer, bites at the back of his neck, and pushes, oh god, his fingers press in and it feels _wrong_ , nothing should be _inside_ him like that, and Archer whimpers.

“Feels so good,” Kimberly croons, pushing deep, and Archer feels so full already, “gonna feel so good to get my cock in you,” and Archer shivers at the thought of Kimberly using him like that, _fucking_ him –

“Yes,” Archer whispers, “yes, s-sir,” and there must be something wrong with him because he knows it’s wrong, can _feel_ it’s wrong, for Kimberly to do this to him, but he’s only getting harder.

“Can’t believe you’ve never done this,” Kimberly purrs, licking Archer’s skin. “You’re fucking made for it.”

“Thank you, sir,” Archer says, even though he’s not sure that’s a compliment. He spreads his knees a little further, presses back onto Kimberly’s fingers.

“Good boy,” Kimberly murmurs, shifting behind him, withdrawing slowly. “God, you’re perfect, perfect,” something much bigger than Kimberly’s fingers nudging at Archer’s ass, blunt and slick, “now let me in, now,” and Archer bites down on a moan as Kimberly pushes in, thick and hard, stretching him out, filling him up, and knowing it is almost as disorienting as feeling it: he’s being _fucked_ , Kimberly’s fucking him, Kimberly’s cock is in his ass — and then Kimberly’s hand curls warm and callused around his cock and Archer moans, rocking his hips, Kimberly’s cock so deep inside him, Kimberly hissing obscenities in his ear: “Come on, come on, want to feel you come, want you to come on my cock, give it to me,” and everything tightens down to this moment, these sensations, Kimberly’s hand and cock moving in time and Archer has never come so hard, never felt anything so good in his life, and then Kimberly comes too, hips surging forward as he drives in deep.

There’s a long, sated moment before Kimberly pulls out and collapses beside him. The air smells sharp and musky. Archer can feel slickness down his thighs. He doesn’t dare speak.

“What’s your name?” Kimberly asks eventually.

“Second Lieutenant Frank Archer.” He’s surprised Kimberly would ask, especially now; this hadn’t seemed _personal_ for the major.

Kimberly kisses him, and grins. “Nice to meet you. You ever fucked anyone, Archer?”

“No, sir.”

“I like having your firsts.” Kimberly holds him loosely, possessively. “Mustang won’t be back for hours yet. Stick around, and we’ll see if you can go a third time.”

It’s not a question. Archer smiles. “Yes, sir.”


End file.
